


a rivalry played out through the giving of jewels

by Emily_Nicaoidh



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Aged-Up Otabek Altin, Aged-Up Yuri Plisetsky, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Background Victuuri - Freeform, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Texting, otayuri - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-16
Updated: 2018-03-26
Packaged: 2019-03-31 22:33:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,650
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13984698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emily_Nicaoidh/pseuds/Emily_Nicaoidh
Summary: Yuri Plisetsky, Tsarevich, is pissed. Just because the country's obscure tradition of blind arranged marriage worked out great for his dumb cousin doesn't mean he wants to be part of it, but Viktor is the Tsar and so Yuri is engaged to someone whose identity he doesn't know. At least he can use the traditional gifts that they are supposed to send each other to outshine this asshole.It's so fucking unfair.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I was listening to the Dear Prudence podcast one day and Prudence joked with the guest that there should be more rivalries between men that are played out through the giving of jewels. That phrase struck me and I wrote it down and ended up writing this fic around it. 
> 
> Thanks to Helle for beta reading the first chapter!

"What the fuck is this?" Yuri demanded, glaring at the innocuous white box that his attendant proffered.

 

"A gift from your intended, Tsarevich Yuri Nikolayevich," the attendant said with a low bow.

 

"Fucking again?" Yuri said, but accepted the box. He tore off the lid to reveal a jeweled tiger hair pin. Its eyes were set with onyx and slivers of emerald, and tiger's eye inlay formed the face.

 

"It's...not terrible," Yuri admitted. "But what the fuck?"

 

"Perhaps they heard that you like cats?" His attendant suggested, glancing at Potya, who was lounging on Yuri's bed.

 

Yuri glared at him. "I don't have anything today before noon, right?"

 

"That's correct. Your lunch with your cousin is the first thing on your agenda," the attendant said.

 

"Fucking good," Yuri muttered. He flopped onto his bed and reached for his phone.

  


To: Beka

you won't fucking believe this shit

 

From: Beka

Did something happen?

 

To: Beka

Another fucking present from my goddamn intended

who they STILL won't tell me anything about

 

From: Beka

Oh.

Is it better than the last one?

  


"Am I correct in assuming that you won't be needing me again this morning, Tsarevich?" The attendant asked.

 

"What? Oh, yeah. Bye," Yuri said, not looking up from his phone.

 

After a few seconds which he assumed were filled with another pointless bow, Yuri heard the door to his rooms open and then shut softly.

 

He let out a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. None of the servants had ever demanded to look at his phone, but he figured that if they had orders from his stupid cousin he would have to give it to them.

  


To: Beka

I guess.

Ok, that's a lie. It's fucking awesome fashion.

But I'm not wearing it.

 

From: Beka

Why not?

 

To: Beka

I don't like the idea of some creepy asshole seeing me wearing it, you know? And probably being smug about it in some creepy-ass way.

 

From: Beka

You're sure your intended is "some creepy asshole"?

 

To: Beka

That stupid old man picked him, so obviously he sucks.

He's probably someone really boring.

 

From: Beka

Surely your cousin wouldn't pick someone you would hate.

 

To: Beka

Whatever.

 

It's not like I'm going to get who I want anyway.

 

Yuri's thumb hovered over the send button, then he sighed and deleted the line. There were some things it was better that Beka didn't know.

 

Yuri threw his phone at his pillow, just hard enough for it to make a satisfyingly audible "thunk" when it hit, but without enough force to put it in danger of bouncing off onto the parquet floor of his room, where it might land on something and shatter. Viktor had been adamant that he had to stop breaking phones, that it was "not hashtag relatable for our subjects when you get new phones all the time, Yura," and Yuri had rolled his eyes and halfway seriously promised he would try harder to not break his next phone.

 

Viktor wasn't making it easy, though. This country's stupid succession laws were working fine for him - he had gotten engaged the minute he came of age to the fiancé that his long-deceased parents had arranged for him when he was born. Viktor hadn't seemed to care that about the traditions that dictated he not meet the guy, who turned out to be a minor prince of a nearby island nation, until two weeks before their wedding. Viktor's fiancé had sent him an impressive amount of jewelry, and Viktor had sent him an embarrassingly sappy quantity of gold and gemstones, and when they had met at the Valentine's Day ball a fortnight before their wedding, it was disgustingly obvious to Yuri and everyone watching that they had fallen in love at first sight.

 

Viktor had apparently taken this as proof that the tradition worked, and three years later, when Yuri came of age, he had been handed a slim gold box with a stupid looking necklace in it and told that he was engaged.

 

Viktor had refused to answer any questions about who Yuri's mysterious intended was, and went so far as avoiding the use of pronouns and the term "fiancé" in writing so that Yuri couldn't even guess their gender.

 

Yuri hated them.

 

How did they know he liked cats? Were they watching him? Was stupid Viktor spying on him and sending them information about him, so that once they got married, they could...what? Manipulate him somehow?

 

It fucking sucked, Yuri decided, and he wasn't going to fall for any of it.

 

His phone pinged, and he reached for it.

 

From: Beka

But they got you something you like this time, right?

Maybe that's a good sign.

 

To: Beka

They're not gonna fucking outdo me.

I'll send them something a hundred times better.

Fuck that.

 

From: Beka

Will that make you feel better?

 

To: Beka

It's part of the tradition

I basically have to send them something

or its some kind of stupid slight or whatever

 

From: Beka

You shouldn't do it if it would make you feel worse.

I'm sure your fiancé wouldn't want that

 

To: Beka

fiancé?????

WHAT THE FUCK BEKA

I TOLD YOU WE DON'T KNOW IF ITS EVEN A GUY

 

From: Beka

Come on, Viktor knows you're gay.

He would not make you marry someone you aren't attracted to.

Reasonably speaking, it has to be a man.

 

Yuri let his phone slip out of his hand and rolled over until most of his legs were hanging off the edge of the bed, then let himself slither to the floor.

 

Viktor was stupid. Traditions were stupid. This entire country was stupid.

 

To: Beka

This is fucking stupid.

I hate this.

 

From: Beka

I'm sorry.

 

To: Beka

Why? It's not your fault

 

From: Beka

I might be able to help

 

To: Beka

wtf

are you talking about

 

From: Beka

There's a ball tomorrow night, isn't there?

It would be good for diplomatic relations if someone from the Kazakh royal family was in attendance.

 

To: Beka

are you FUCKING SERIOUS

 

From: Beka

:)

 

To: Beka

I thought you were too serious for emojis

 

From: Beka

It seemed appropriate.

See you tomorrow night, Yura.

  


Yuri left his phone unlocked on top of his armoire while he dressed for his lunch with Viktor, which didn't seem so tedious anymore. He snuck glances at the phone, where Otabek's last message was still displayed on the screen. The annual Valentine's ball was a boring waste of time, in Yuri's opinion, and last year he had managed to skip it by virtue of being completely unfindable when it was time for the royal family (at that time consisting of Yuri himself, his idiot cousin the Tsar, the Tsar's marginally tolerable husband, and a berserk poodle puppy) to arrive. After a few strategic texts assuring said marginally tolerable consort that Yuri had not been kidnapped and hinting vaguely that he was too worried about being newly engaged to a stranger to attend, Yuri had received an official pardon from that year's ball and spent the night playing video games in his rooms and drunk-texting Beka.

 

He had been planning to do something similar this year, but if Beka was going to be there...well, it would be good to see him. Yuri didn't let himself consider the point beyond that.

 

In a back corner of a small, gilded box on his dressing table, Yuri found a bracelet made of a series of pale, round emeralds set in golden ovals. It had been commissioned years ago for some dumb formal ball he had been forced to attend. Viktor said the emeralds were the same shade of green as his eyes. Yuri thought that was stupid, but that it did make a pretty convenient gift. He could write something to that effect in a note to accompany the bracelet and pretend that he had actually thought this through, rather than just grabbing the first piece of bling he didn’t care too much about.

 

On second thought, he wouldn’t bother with a note, Yuri decided. Notes were for people he gave a shit about, and whoever this asshole was, Yuri definitely knew that he did not give a shit about him. Or her, he reminded himself with a scowl.  He didn't bother finding a new box for the return gift. He dumped the tiger hairpin out of its box and arranged the bracelet in the tissue paper, then found a gold ribbon in a forgotten drawer of his dressing table, closed the box, and tied it sloppily.

 

There was no point in dressing for lunch with Viktor, Yuri decided. He grabbed the box and headed for the corridor.

  
  


"Hey, get this to Vitya and make him send it to my intended," Yuri said, forcing the words to sound casual as he handed the box to the first halfway trustworthy-looking courtier he saw.

 

"Aww, of course, Your Grace," Mila Mikhailovna said, patting him on the head.

 

"Whatever, hag," Yuri muttered, hurrying away.

  


Lunch meetings with Viktor were notoriously unpredictable. Once Viktor had insisted that they "eat in a cafe in St. Petersburg, like regular people", and this had lead to three hours of meeting random people whom Yuri frankly did not give a shit about while getting kicked under the table by Viktor every time he did not look sufficiently gracious at the weird fawning of the populace.

 

Another time their private lunch meeting had turned out to be a special session of parliament and with no food in sight. The one common thread in Viktor's lunch meetings was that they were annoying as hell, in Yuri's opinion.

 

This time, as Yuri entered Viktor's private offices, he found his cousin sitting in an armchair beside a fire. It was weird to see Viktor not at his desk, these days. If he was in his offices at all, he was usually working furiously, trying to iron out details of some diplomatic thing Yuri didn't give a shit about so that he could get out of there and probably do something unspeakably gross with his husband.

 

"Yura," Viktor called, gesturing to the empty high-backed, velvet upholstered chair opposite his own. "Please, sit."

 

"Fine." Yuri dropped himself into the chair and waited for Viktor to talk.

 

"There's a ball tomorrow," Viktor said.

 

"No shit, Sherlock."

 

"Yura," Viktor chided, but his tone was gentle. "I know they're not your favourite thing."

 

"I fucking hate them," Yuri said.

 

"This one is important. You need to wear the last gift that your intended sent you," Viktor said.

 

"Fuck no!"

 

"You need to wear it," Viktor repeated. "It's tradition. Your intended will wear your last gift, and you'll wear theirs. You remember at the ball three years ago, when my Yuuri and I finally met..." Viktor eyes got misty, and Yuri rolled his eyes.

 

It was impossible not to remember. Viktor had worn this ridiculous bracelet that from a distance, looked like it had weird, crumpled golden charms hanging off of it, but that up close turned out to be delicately folded golden cranes, which had apparently been cast based on cranes that Viktor's intended had folded out of paper. This had been explained in a note accompanying the gift, and the explanation repeated by Viktor at the ball to anyone who would listen to him, along with detailed interjections about how romantic and perfect it was and how much he couldn't wait to meet the man who had folded the cranes.

 

Repeated, that is, until one unassuming man dressed in a fine but simple suit had blushed deep red, tried to stutter something in faltering Russian, gave up, and then reached gingerly underneath the collar of his shirt to pull out a delicate chain with an intricately carved golden chamomile flower that had been commissioned by Viktor to send to his intended, and Viktor had shrieked and thrown his arms around the man and declared him the most beautiful person he had ever seen.

 

The night had, shockingly, only gone downhill from there. Viktor's intended, it turned out, could drink half the nobility in attendance under the table, and by the time Viktor's best friend, the crown prince of Switzerland, announced that there was a pole set up in the next ballroom over and challenged Viktor's drunk-off-his-ass fiancé to a dance-off, well, Yuri decided it was a good thing for the dignity of the crown that the majority of the nobles were either passed out drunk or had already gone home at a more decorous hour.

 

"I'm hoping that this year's ball will be less of a fucking disaster," Yuri said.

 

"It's going to be amazing!" Viktor promised. "It's time for you to meet your intended. I think you're going to be really happy."

 

"Hang on," Yuri said slowly, replaying Viktor's words in his mind. "They're going to be there? Are you fucking kidding me?"

 

"Yes!" Viktor looked delighted. "You're twenty two and that's the age that I was when I got married, so I think this is a good time for you to meet them. And then you can get married in two weeks! Yura, you're going to be _so_ happy." Viktor's eyes got misty again, and Yuri fought down bile.

 

Yuri stood up so fast he almost stumbled, and his chair tottered a little on delicate carved legs.

 

"Fuck you," he snarled. "You ruin everything. Fuck you. Fuck the monarchy."

 

He turned and ran from the room.

  


Yuri spent the rest of the day hiding in his room. Viktor (of fucking course it was Viktor, who else would have known that he hadn't eaten any lunch) had sent him up snacks and then dinner. Food appeared outside his door signalled by a single knock and then the sound of overly loud, obviously-retreating steps, and Yuri didn't think it was petty of him to wait until he couldn't hear any footsteps at all before opening the door to get the food.

 

Why bother ignoring it just to spite Viktor? It didn't matter. Nothing fucking mattered anymore. Good thing he had a bottle of emergency vodka under his bed.

  


Yuri woke the next morning with his face mashed against his phone screen, clutching a stuffed tiger to his chest, his free hand in a pile of crushed potato chips. He sat up, groaning and rubbing his eyes, and checked his phone. He had somehow slept most of the day, and the ball was set to start in less than three hours.

 

To: Beka

aaajlkasdfalsdjflakf;laksdf;alsdkfa;s

asldkfjas;ldfkaldgfn,asdf;l

alsdjfa;lskdfa;lskf

 

From: Beka

Yura?

 

Yuri brushed potato chip crumbs off of his phone screen.

 

To: Beka

Sorry. I think I fell asleep on my phone.

 

From: Beka

Oh. I'm glad you're okay.

 

To: Beka

I'm not okay.

 

From: Beka

But we'll see each other tonight?

 

To: Beka

Yeah

 

Trying to ignore the fact that he'd have to spend the ball talking to some horrible person that he would be spending the rest of his life being miserable with instead of playing  "take a drink every time Vitya does something embarrassing" with Otabek and hiding on the fringes of the crowd like he had planned, Yuri pulled the linen bag containing his tuxedo from the depths of his armoire and started to dress.

 

Viktor had picked out Yuri’s tuxedo, and Yuri had been fully prepared to hate it and to yell that he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing that crap in public and stomp away, but then he’d seen it.

 

And damn, it was hard to admit that his idiot cousin had actually done something right for once. At first glance, the tux looked like the kind of boring, innocuous thing that that the staid nobility would expect the Tsarevich to wear - black trousers, thin black silk line down the side seam, a white tuxedo shirt, and a black jacket with black silk lapels.

 

But inside the jacket--a leopard print lining. The white shirt was woven, white-on-white leopard print, and the pocket square was made of the same fabric. And all of it was so _soft._ Yuri had almost cried when he touched it.

 

So yeah, Yuri thought. Vitya had done good for once.

 

His shoes had been shined, and in a fit of rebelliousness, Yuri decided not to wear socks. Who would be able to tell? He hated having things on his feet and he figured that Viktor owed him one anyway for ruining tonight’s ball with this stupid engagement crap.

 

Once dressed, he leaned in close to the mirror above his dressing table, plaiting his hair into the side braid that would keep it out of his face. He glanced at the tiger hairpin, sitting on top of a discarded shirt. It would be amazing fashion, and the kind of thing that he knew he would not be able to get away with wearing under normal circumstances.

 

In the past when he had tried to wear a crystal tiger necklace to a ball, Viktor had droned on about how they needed to look classy and not like a rhinestone factory exploded on them, and Yuri had grudgingly stuffed the necklace into his pocket. But now. He was supposed to wear the last gift this horrible person he was going to marry had sent, and that last gift happened to be fucking amazing fashion. Yuri tilted his head to the left and slide the hairpin into his ponytail, just above where the braid ended. Perfect.

  


The ball was crowded and stupid and Yuri wanted to leave. He scanned the crowd, looking for-- _There_.

 

Otabek. Yuri slammed his champagne coupe down on the nearest table, startling a trio of nobles who had crept closer to him for some inexplicable reason, and strode over to him.

 

"Yura," Otabek said, extending his right hand for Yuri to shake.

 

Something golden and green glinted on Otabek's wrist, and Yuri froze.

 

"What the actual fuck, Beka," Yuri whispered. "Where the fuck did you get that."

 

Otabek frowned. "This isn't how I thought this would go."

 

"No? You thought you pretending we're engaged when you _know_ it's the only thing I--" Yuri paused and scrubbed at his eyes. "You know what, fuck it. No. I am not having this conversation with you right now. Fuck off."

 

Yuri stomped away, not caring who saw what. Fucking nobles, didn't they have something better to gossip about than him?

 

The doors to the balconies over the gardens were open, and Yuri slipped outside. The late-winter sky was already dark, and this far into the capitol, only the brightest stars were visible.

 

Yuri stared into the blackness, trying to assemble them into constellations in his mind, but he couldn't focus. He gave up and leaned against the balustrade, folding his arms on the cool stone and staring at nothing.

 

"I think we need to talk about this." A familiar voice came from several paces behind Yuri.

 

"I don't think we do," Yuri said. He didn't turn around.

 

"Yura," Otabek said, a note of reproach in his voice.

 

"Is that what this is going to be like?" Yuri demanded, whirling around.

 

"Like what?" Otabek asked, not turning to look at him.

 

"We hurt each other because I can't fucking talk--," Yuri started, then shook his head.

 

Otabek turned slightly, glancing at Yuri, then slipped his phone out of his pocket.

 

From: Beka

I can't fucking talk either

as you may have noticed

so

it's not just you

 

To: Beka

what the fuck beka

 

From: Beka

I'm sorry

 

To:Beka

why did you do it?

 

From: Beka

I didn't.

If by 'it' you mean pretend that we're engaged.

I'm not pretending.

 

To:Beka

what the fUCK

 

From: Beka

your cousin asked me

and i wanted

i wanted, yura.

and i thought

maybe

you wanted too.

 

To:Beka

not that part, idiot

why didn't you tell me

I was so

 

From: Beka

so what?

 

Yuri leaned back against the balcony railing, letting the cool stone pressing into his side ground him. That standing this way kept Otabek out of his line of sight was a side bonus.

 

To:Beka

i wanted it to be you

but i thought i knew it wasn't

i was so angry

i think i'm still angry

 

From: Beka

are you angry that it's me

 

To:Beka

fuck, beka

i'm angry i didn't know

like i should have figured it out

somehow

 

From: Beka

Ok

hey can i

 

Yuri looked up when he read to the end of the incomplete line of text, and Otabek was standing in front of him somehow even though Yuri had not heard him move, and his eyes were focused on his phone, but he slowly raised one arm and set a gentle hand on Yuri's shoulder, and Yuri felt some of the viciousness boiling inside him finally evaporate, and he didn't know if he said anything or who moved first but it didn't matter because Otabek's arms were around him and he draped his arms over Otabek's shoulders and leaned his cheek against Otabek's.

 

"We're ok?" Yuri asked, after a few long moments.

 

"I think we're going to be," Otabek said.

  



	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The embarrassing public parts are over, and Yuri and Otabek are finally alone. This is what he's been waiting years for, but now Yuri finds himself feeling uncertain and lost. 
> 
> (Or, the wedding night. It starts with vodka and video games and ends with fluffy sex)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to SqueezeBabe for beta reading this chapter!

"That was stupid," Yuri said, letting out a breath that he felt like he'd been holding for hours as soon as he heard the door to his rooms shut behind him. "I'm never doing that again." 

 

"I will do my best to make sure you don't have to," Otabek, who had followed him into the room, said, his voice unusually solemn. 

 

Yuri felt his face redden. 

 

"What?"

 

"I want to say something but it's gonna come out stupid," Yuri complained. 

 

"It's fine."

 

"That's...what you said just now. That's the best vow I've ever heard. It's better than those fucking stupid ones from earlier." Yuri ducked his head, avoiding Otabek's eyes. 

 

"Yura," Otabek said, his voice coming out a little strangled. 

 

"Fuck it," Yuri muttered, and pulled his phone out of his trouser pocket.

 

To: Beka

I hate this shit

 

From: Beka

which part?

 

To: Beka

how it's a big public thing

how everyone in the damn kingdom came out to watch

like we're zoo animals

i’m not a zoo animal

 

From: Beka

woof

 

To: Beka

(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

 

From: Beka

sorry: 

meow

 

To: Beka

it feels weird that after all that drama

now we just...don't have to be anywhere

or see anyone

 

From: Beka

Yes.

We have all night

what do you want to do with it?

  
  


Yuri stared at Otabek's words on his phone screen, and the reality of the day started to sink in. 

 

They had all night. The night stretched out before him, sparkling with possibility. Yuri's phone slipped out of his hand and mercifully landed on a pile of discarded clothes. 

 

"I don't--I don't know," Yuri admitted. "I never thought about it. I thought I would, but I was so focused on getting through the public shitshow that I didn't think about this part."

 

"I thought about it," Otabek said, and Yuri could tell that he was intentionally keeping his tone light. "I have some ideas, but we shouldn't do anything that we don't both want."

 

"Fuck," Yuri muttered. "I didn't think--I've only known it’s you for two weeks, and before that I--fuck, Beka, you know I wanted it, but I didn't say anything, it would have been impossible, and I tried not to think about it so I wouldn't be as sad when it wasn't you, but now it is and I don't know how to deal with any of this fucking shit."

 

"I didn't know," Otabek said. "I hoped and I wanted. But I didn't know that you wanted it too."

 

"I thought you knew."

 

Otabek shook his head.

 

"What if," Otabek began, "we do what we did after last year's banquet?"

 

"Drink and play video games?" Yuri asked, incredulous.

 

Otabek shrugged. "It was fun over texting. It'll probably be more fun actually being here with you."

 

"Yeah," Yuri said. "Yeah, it was. Let's do it."

 

Otabek sidled over to the couch near the window of Yuri's rooms and shrugged out of his jacket. "Where do you keep games?"

 

"On the shelf," Yuri said, looking away when Otabek took his jacket off. "Just---whatever."

 

"Oh hey, classic smash bros! Do you have anything that can run this?"

 

"Yeah, there's a gamecube in the back, behind the switch and the xbox..." Yuri edged a little closer to the couch, hoping that Otabek didn't try to take any more of his clothes off. Not yet anyway. Not before they were both properly drunk and could maybe handle the awkwardness a little better.

 

"Oh, I'll go grab the vodka." This too was stashed near the couch, along with some plastic cups. 

 

Otabek turned the gamecube on, Yuri poured the vodka shots, and soon they were settled together on the sofa. 

 

"First one to lose a life has to take a drink," Yuri said, and Otabek grinned. 

 

"You're on."

 

It was a long time before either of them lost a life; something about this game seemed like it had higher stakes than their previous matches. Eventually, Yuri executed a complicated flip right as Otabek was about to punch him off the edge of Rainbow Road, and Otabek sighed deeply as his character fell into the void. He reached for his cup, and drank it swiftly.

 

"Hah! Got you!" Yuri said, dropping his controller and punching the air. "Hey. I got you. I totally got you," he said, elbowing Otabek. 

 

Otabek didn't reply, but glanced down to where their elbows were barely touching. 

 

Yuri froze. 

 

"Hey. You ok?" Otabek asked, when a few seconds had ticked past and Yuri showed no signs of life. 

 

"I--yeah. It's just." Yuri took a deep breath. "For so long I had to tell myself I couldn't want. Couldn't touch. And I just touched you accidentally, and it’s… It sort of hit me. That maybe...but it's hard to believe that I could--" His hand clenched, and he reached for his own shot and drained it.

 

"You could," Otabek confirmed. "We're both of age, and we're married, and you could." He set aside his controller.

 

"I could," Yuri repeated, his disbelief plain in his voice. 

 

He glanced at Otabek, who had folded his hands and let them rest on his leg. Yuri squirmed around, still sitting cross-legged on the sofa, so that he could face Otabek. 

 

"It's..it's a lot. I don't know what to do with it," Yuri admitted. "This possibility. This  _ you could _ ."

 

Otabek smiled at that, the smile that Yuri was so fond of; that he had only seen when they were alone, and not even often then. The real smile, not the expressionless stare or the false, pasted-on smile that he tended to wear in public. The smile that Yuri secretly thought of as  _ his _ smile. 

 

"What," Yuri grumbled. 

 

"Do you remember how much shorter than me you were when we first met? And how insistent you were that you were going to get taller than me? I really thought you would. I was convinced you'd end up a foot taller than me," Otabek said.

 

"So was I," Yuri muttered. "So unfair."

 

"There are definite advantages to us being the same height, though," Otabek said. 

 

Yuri eyed him suspiciously. "If this is something gross I will kick you, I swear to god."

 

"What if it's something nice?" Otabek asked. 

 

"Still might kick you," Yuri muttered. 

 

"I've thought about this part a lot," Otabek said. "I had more advance warning than you that this was happening."

 

"Over an entire fucking year," Yuri said. "And you didn't tell me. I can't believe you didn't tell me."

 

"At first I was worried what your cousin would do if I told you," Otabek said. "But later...it had been so long and I didn't know how to tell you." He leaned forward and pressed his forehead to Yuri's. 

 

"I don't know if I would have believed you if you had," Yuri admitted, refusing to acknowledge the hitch in his breathing. Fuck, Otabek was close. "It would have sounded too good to be true. What did you think about this part?"

 

"It's not fit for polite company," Otabek warned.

 

"Then good fucking thing you aren't in polite company," Yuri said.

 

"I thought about how you get sometimes, when everything is too much and you just want to text instead of talk. I wondered if I could make you feel like that, but in a good way. Sometime like tonight, when it would be just the two of us."

 

"Fuck, Beka," Yuri whispered, his cheeks burning. 

 

"But then I thought about how long I had been thinking that, and how by the time we got here you wouldn't have had anywhere near as much time as I had to think about it," Otabek continued. "And I wondered what you would be thinking when we got here, and if you would tell me about it."

 

"Fuck," Yuri said again, and threw himself forward into Otabek, crashing his lips against Otabek's and pressing him back into the arm of the sofa. After a long moment during which Otabek did not move and Yuri was terrified he had done something really, really wrong and ruined everything, Otabek sighed a little and wrapped his arms around Yuri. 

 

Yuri was sure his heart had actually stopped in the moments before Otabek started to kiss him back, slowly at first, then with desperate need. 

 

"Yura," Otabek breathed, when they separated a few moments later. His eyes flicked over Yuri, who settled so that he was straddling his hips, and flushed. 

 

Yuri leaned forward, planting his hands on Otabek's shoulders. "Can we--more," he asked, fighting to keep his voice even. 

 

"Here?" Otabek asked, glancing around at the switch controllers and mess strewn around the sofa. 

 

"Where else?" Yuri asked sharply. Otabek's lips curled into a soft smile and he inclined his head toward Yuri's bed. 

 

"But only if you want. I can sleep on the sofa if you would rather not share a bed."

 

"Fuck no you can't sleep on the sofa," Yuri growled, flinging himself off of Otabek and grabbing his hand. "Do you know how long I’ve waited for this, thinking I would never get you? Get in bed with me, now."

  
  


Yuri dragged Otabek to the bed, sitting down on the edge of it and not releasing his hand. "Okay. We're here. More, now, please."

 

"It would be an honor," Otabek said, and leaned in to kiss the side of Yuri's throat. "But please do, you know, kick me or something if there's anything you don't want."

 

"Fucking impossible," Yuri answered, and Otabek could hear the impatience in his voice. 

 

Otabek dipped his head to hide his smile and sought out Yuri's neck again, kissing the same spot gently, then letting his lips trail lower to the collar of Yuri's shirt. He traced around the top button with one finger, giving Yuri a questioning look. 

 

Yuri nodded.

 

Otabek unbuttoned the top four buttons of the shirt with deft fingers, dropping kisses on every part of Yuri's newly exposed skin. 

 

Yuri gasped, and Otabek quested lower, letting his teeth graze at the skin over Yuri's collarbone. A deep purple bruise blossomed underneath him, and the hand that Yuri raised to grab Otabek's shoulder was shaking. 

 

"Beka. Fucking take your shirt off," Yuri tried to sound confident, but his voice shook with desire instead. 

 

Otabek smiled and undid his own buttons, shrugging out of his shirt. "Better?"

 

"Fuck yes," Yuri hissed, finally releasing Otabek's other hand and diving on top of him, tackling Otabek down into the bed. He straddled Otabek's waist and bent down, pressing their foreheads together and staring into Otabek's eyes. "I can't wait any longer. Don't make me wait, Beka."

 

Otabek's eyes widened and he let his hands settle around Yuri's hips. 

 

"Don't make you wait for what? What do you want tonight, Yura? You can have anything."

 

Yuri flushed and bit his lip. Otabek's hands, half over his pants and half on the bare skin of his waist, felt like they were made of fire.

 

"I--" Yuri realized the words weren’t there, and reached to pull his phone from his pocket. 

 

To: Beka

I want you inside

 

Yuri hit send, then looked up at Otabek, who was watching him with a new sort of smile that Yuri couldn’t easily interpret, and who was not holding his phone. He flushed and turned his phone around so that Otabek could read the screen. 

 

“Are you sure, Yura? That’s...that’s a lot, right away,” Otabek said, but Yuri could see a slow blush overtaking him. 

 

Yuri nodded.

 

Otabek leaned up, not breaking eye contact with Yuri, and reached forward and unzipped his pants, then tugged them down. "Best I can do unless you want to move," Otabek said. 

 

Yuri scrambled backwards off of Otabek in his hurry to get his pants all the way off. The phone dropped from his hand onto the pillow. Otabek lifted his hips and slid his own pants off far more gracefully, and Yuri scowled. 

 

"Did you practice that?” Yuri asked.

 

"Maybe," Otabek said, winking at Yuri. "Maybe I practiced a lot of things, for tonight."

 

"Like--like what?" Yuri asked, forcing out a slow breath as he sat back up.

 

As a reply, Otabek leaned forward, pressing Yuri into the duvet. He frowned at Yuri's still halfway buttoned shirt before undoing the rest of the buttons. "You can keep that on, if you want," Otabek offered, before ducking his head and kissing Yuri's stomach. 

 

For a moment the kisses were soft, gentle, reverent. Then Yuri moaned as Otabek dipped his tongue into Yuri's navel, and his kisses because harder, fierce. Protective, almost, Yuri realized, and the thought lit a fire inside him.

 

"Beka, more," Yuri gasped. The warmth and slight stretch of Otabek exploring the small inlet of Yuri's navel hinted at another kind of stretch and made him want more. 

 

Otabek drew back, leaving a final kiss on the sharp corner of Yuri's hip, and traced over the outline of Yuri's hard cock through his briefs. 

 

"I wonder if you would like this," Otabek mused, almost to himself, as he let his fingers drift lower and farther back. 

 

Yuri, flushed and impatient, lifted his hips and pulled off his last layer of clothing. "Yes," he said, grabbing Otabek's hand again and replacing it where it had been. His fingers were warm as they brushed against Yuri's entrance.

 

"If this is what you want, I need to get something first," Otabek said, letting his fingers dance over the furled pucker of Yuri's hole. 

 

"No condoms," Yuri said, propping himself up on his elbows and glaring at Otabek as if to dare him to disagree. 

 

"Alright, but we do need lube." 

 

"Well, I don't have any," Yuri grumbled.

 

"I brought some," Otabek admitted, and Yuri saw a hint of a blush appear on his cheeks. "I didn't know what you wanted to do, so I wanted to plan for everything. I'll be right back."

 

Yuri shivered as Otabek pulled away and stepped over to where he had dropped his jacket; even without having had anything inside yet, he already felt empty.

 

"Back," Otabek murmured, crawling over him, and they were kissing again, Yuri nibbling at Otabek's lips with his teeth and groaning when Otabek's tongue breached his lips. "You're shivering. You ok?"

 

Yuri glared at him, and Otabek's expression softened from concern into fondness. He rolled to the side, letting his head rest on Yuri's stomach, and Yuri heard the pop of a cap, and then there were Otabek's fingers again, brushing gently around his entrance.

 

"Still want this?" Otabek asked, and Yuri nodded. 

 

"I want you," Yuri gasped, and Otabek slipped a finger inside up to the first knuckle, and  _ oh, fuck, _ Yuri thought.  When Otabek guessed he was ready for a second, he dumped half the bottle onto his second and third fingers in preparation, then carefully, carefully, edged another finger in.

 

"Oh fuck," Yuri said weakly, a few moments later. "Right there--ah!" His back arched a little and Otabek kissed his belly. 

 

“My Yura,” Otabek mumurred, bending lower to suck a hickey into Yuri’s hip as he slipped in a third finger.

 

“Ah! Beka,” Yuri gasped, at the deeper stretch, the unfamiliar burn. 

 

"I think you're probably ready," Otabek said a few moments later, drawing his fingers out of Yuri and smoothing more lube over his cock.

 

"I've been ready for hours," Yuri grumbled, but they both knew it wasn't true. This was something new between them, delicate as the first threads of a spider's morning web. 

 

"You're sure?" Otabek asked, uncertainty in his voice. "I don't want--I don't want this to be bad, Yura."

 

Yuri sat up, pushing Otabek backward and climbing on top of him. "I said I'm ready," Yuri hissed, glaring at Otabek as he reached down to grab his cock and nudging the tip barely inside himself. 

 

"Are you--" The rest of Otabek's words were punched out of him when Yuri slammed himself down until his ass was flush against Otabek's hips, his cock fully sheathed deep inside Yuri. 

 

Their eyes met, Yuri's blazing triumphant, Otabek's blissed and uncertain, and in an instant they were both giggling. 

 

“Be-beka--” Yuri moaned when he could breathe again.

 

"Yura," Otabek breathed, and it was both a prayer and a swear.

 

"Beka, move," Yuri ordered, and Otabek grabbed his waist, letting his fingers dig into Yuri's ass as he fucked up into him. 

 

Yuri gasped and Otabek shifted somehow and hit a spot that made him see stars. "More," Yuri demanded. 

 

Otabek flipped them, and before Yuri could complain about the sudden emptiness Otabek was lining himself up and thrusting back into Yuri's ass, deeper this time, hitting his prostate again and again. Yuri hooked a leg around Otabek's back, pressing him as close into himself as he could. 

 

"Yura, Yura, Yura," Otabek breathed, reaching around and wrapping a hand around Yuri's weeping cock. "Yura, are you--"

 

"Beka, yes, I think, are you--" Yuri's answer was garbled as he came. 

 

A few moments later Otabek followed him over the edge and Yuri sighed, feeling the streams of come bursting inside of him.

 

Otabek collapsed on top of him and Yuri laughed, leaning forward to kiss him again. They kissed as Otabek's cock softened and eventually slipped out of Yuri's ass, and kept kissing as Yuri's come, now splashed over both of their stomachs, cooled and dried between them. Their kisses grew lazier and lazier until they fell asleep, lips pressed together.

  
  


Yuri woke up some hours later, reaching out before he even opened his eyes by habit to the right side of his pillow where his phone usually rested. His hand hit something warm and prickly that was definitely not his phone, and Yuri opened his eyes to see Otabek looking down at where Yuri's hand grazed the slight stubble at his jaw. 

 

“What you said last night,” Yuri began, then bit his lip, hesitating. 

 

Otabek watched Yuri’s conflicted expression, then reached over the edge of the bed and felt around for their phones. He passed Yuri his, and got a grateful look in response. 

 

To: Beka

What you said last night about how

How i get sometimes

Like now

I cant say stuff right

And you wanted

That but in a good way

Last night

Well

You got it

 

From: Beka

That’s beautiful, Yura

It’s everything I had hoped for

 

To: Beka

Fuck

 

From: Beka 

Is that a request

 

“What happens if it is?” Yuri asked, peering over the top of his phone at Otabek. 

 

“I might make a request of my own,” Otabek said, leaning forward to press a kiss to Yuri’s forehead. “Will you top?”

 

Yuri dropped his phone in shock. “Fuck yes,” he breathed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Let me know what you think <3

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Chapter 2 (where this fic will earn its rating) is 95% written and will be posted in about a week.


End file.
